


Baby, I didn't say a vow

by Authumnder



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, gratuitous mention of Taylor Swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authumnder/pseuds/Authumnder
Summary: Erik goes to Bali, meets Gabe, and ruins a wedding. Exactly in that order.
Relationships: Erik Johnson/Gabriel Landeskog
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	Baby, I didn't say a vow

**Author's Note:**

> are you even a fanfic writer if you haven't written a taylor swift-themed fic and/or named your work after her lyrics? jk jk. anyway kuta beach is really famous for SUNSET weddings (the view's GREAT) not morning ones! i butched this one for plot reasons. also if you plan on vacationing in bali then make sure to visit lombok, too! i haven't gone there either but i'm DYING to

In all the years he’s lived, never once did Erik consider his life to be a cliché. Oh, he’s not complaining; his life isn’t exactly dull or boring, but nothing otherworldly exciting has ever happened in it either—or, as Erik likes to describe it when asked _how’s it going_: it’s _going_, and that’s that.

It’s just that—extraordinary things don’t happen to him. Few fortunate events here and there, sure, like that one time Erik won a lottery worth $5000 when he was thirteen (he’d only spent like $300, though, the rest gone to his college fund), or when his first choice university offered him a full-ride scholarships, but like, other than that? Nothing. Erik’s just scraping by with the little generosity god’s given him, and he’s actually pretty satisfied with it.

So, now that a song of Taylor Swift suddenly matches the current event in his life, Erik is, to say matter-of-factly, _blindsided_. Erik doesn’t actually listen to Swift, but this...situation he’s currently in is horribly similar to one of her hits that Erik doesn’t have a choice except to be reminded of it.

He couldn’t mull over it, though, too busy beating time, because the guy who might (or might not) be the love of Erik’s life is getting married today, and there’s no way Erik’s letting that happen without doing something, _anything_, beforehand.

Plus, Taylor Swift probably doesn’t sing for people who give up on the love of their lives halfway. Erik doesn’t like her enough to want to impress her or whatever, but for some stupid reason that manages to make him runs faster.

Now, anyone wants to take a wild guess on which Swift song it is?

...

It begins with the stupid employee of the year poll in Erik’s place of work—which he’s pretty sure he only won because of how often he brought a full jar of homemade cookies that everyone loved—and the full-week vacation to Bali that’s given freely to the winner as a token of gratitude from the company. Erik doesn’t like traveling that much, but a _paid _full-week away from work? He’d be dumb as fuck not to take it.

Anyway, the company’d only cover for one person, Hilda from Human Resources told him, so if he wanted to bring his girlfriend or fiancee or whatever, then tough luck. Erik was very tempted to tell her that there’s no one like that in his life, but like, that’d probably sound too pathetic, so he just nodded his agreement and fled the fuck out of the office.

So: here he is, in Bali, practically at the start of god’s plan to ‘shake Erik Johnson’s terribly boring life a little bit.’

The first three days isn’t that interesting. Erik only went to places the travel agency has chosen for him, following the tight schedules without complaining much, not that he has any, because the destinations are always nice and beautiful, but yeah, he can’t deny that it got boring fast. The fourth day, Erik’s decided to stay back at his hotel and travel on his own with the help of TripAdvisor, in much more leisurely pace. He doesn’t speak Bahasa, the local language, but he sees white people everywhere and a lot of locals over here seem to understand English pretty well.

Anyway, that’s how he ended up in a discotheque called Red Ruby ten minutes from his hotel. He wasn’t like, actively planning or looking for it, just happened to stumble over it on his way back, and through some Googling he found out what the building is, so of course he gets in.

Gabe catches Erik’s eyes pretty much the second he saunters over the bar. Erik’s not proud of it, but Gabe does, has Erik wrapped around his little fingers (that turned out to be not so little, after all) pretty much the second he smiles Erik’s way. Erik doesn’t like to think of himself as _easy_, but apparently he _is_, when it comes to pretty boys with pretty smiles.

Later, if someone asks who between them made the first move, Erik would have no answer at all. It just seems like they’re strong opposite magnets attracting each other, and, yes, Erik does know how silly and disgusting that sounds, but it’s also the closest to a truthful explanation he could get. Whoever’s asking should just be satisfied with that.

“Come here often?” is Gabe’s first words to him.

“That’s a stupid line,” Erik yells over the crowds, before he can remind himself that he was supposed to be mild but interesting, not hostile. It’s a fucking stupid line, though, is what it is, but it’s also said alongside the brightest smile Erik’s ever witnessed, so maybe Erik will let it slide for once.

Gabe doesn’t seem to take offense, thank god, laughs instead. He says, “Don’t cute guys get an exception?”

That’s bad. Erik won’t even dignify it with a response. He hopes his cringing is answer enough.

“Alright, fine, that was—yeah.” Gabe laughs again, throws his head back, showing the long column of his throat that invites Erik to come closer and take a lick. “I’m Gabe.”

If Erik didn’t know he was fucked before (which is pretty much impossible, considering Gabe’s whole... _Gabeness_), he does very clearly now.

“Erik,” Erik replies.

“You didn’t say no, though,” Gabe points out, after nodding his head to Erik’s curt introduction. He has a full glass of beer that he sips occasionally, hips swaying along to the shitty music the bar has to offer. “About cute guys getting exception to use shitty pick-up lines.”

Erik feigns thinking about it for a moment. “That depends,”

“On what?” Gabe asks.

“On whether you want to go through with it.” Erik says, like flirting with literal Adonis descendant is easy. He boldly raises an eyebrow to, like, sending the meaning across.

Gabe says, “Like that isn’t obvious?”

Erik wants to ask what he means by that, but _Apple Bottom Jeans_ comes on and Gabe’s face honest-to-god breaks into a million watts grin that’s impossible to look at without being blinded in the process.—

“This is my jam! Come on!” he’s already shaking his body and moving onto the dance floor.

The fact that Erik doesn’t call him out on how lame that is is proof enough that Erik’s really fucking gone on the guy. The fact that Erik willingly dances alongside Gabe is another, and the fact that they spend the rest of their time there in each other’s company, _touching_, Erik listening to Gabe coming up with other shitty pick-up lines which they end up cackling at—yeah, that’s pretty much the clearest a proof can be.

Following that, it isn’t a surprise at all that by the end of the hour Erik’s offering to take Gabe back to his hotel room.

It is, however, kind of a surprise when Gabe reacts by kissing Erik on the mouth, right there in the middle of the dance floor.

…

Erik stirs awake when the digital clock at his bedside table still shows 5:30 am, to the sound of stiff denim scraping against the floor, which, what the fuck?

“What’re you doing?” he asks blindly at the general direction the sound’s coming from. It’s still so fucking dark, until Erik realises that he still has his eyes closed. He opens them, catches blurry shadows, and decides it’s not worth it and lets them flutter shut again.

“Fuck, sorry,” Gabe says quietly. Erik watches as he pulls his skinny jeans over his ass which, yeah, Erik’s tapped that. Fucking awesome. “I have a wedding to attend,”

Erik buries his face back into the comforter. “Shit, Gabe, what kinda wedding takes place at ass o’clock?” fuck, he can smell Gabe’s cologne on it. He tucks his pillow closer and yeah, that smells pretty much like Gabe, too. He wonders if they can have a repeat performance before Erik leaves Bali, because Erik would absolutely love that. He would beg, probably.

You know what, change that ‘probably’ to ‘definitely’. That’s closer to the truth.

Gabe’s still pulling on his clothes, judging from the sounds he’s causing. Though they at least wake Erik up enough to realize that this is probably the last time he’s going to see Gabe undressed. That’s enough to make Erik wrench his face away from the bed, even as sleep-deprived as he is, just so he can have another look.

Too bad Gabe’s done with his pants.

“Um,” Gabe says. “I’m supposed to be married?”

It takes Erik an embarrassingly long...moment to register what Gabe’s saying. “You mean,” he starts carefully. “..you are the groom?”

Gabe doesn’t answer right away. “Yes… technically?”

“Gabe—what the fuck?” Erik asks, scandalized, and also like, in total panic because—this man? Whom Erik’s contemplating asking out for real? Also thought as the best lay in his life?

He’s getting fucking _married _today?

“I really have to go,” Gabe says, breaking the silence again. He drops a chaste kiss on Erik’s forehead, completely unaware of the internal breakdown Erik’s having right now. “Wait, the hotel is near the Kuta beach, right?” he doesn’t wait long enough for Erik to answer before continuing, “Whatever I can just Google it. Talk to me later, okay? Bye, Erik.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

…

Erik doesn’t immediately get his shit together after that. Obviously.

Like, he spends a good twenty minutes trying to fall back asleep, thinking that it is what it is. Evidently the reason Gabe’s here in Bali at all is to get married, and he is doing that right now, tying the knot, probably to some blonde girl as attractive as Gabe is, like he’s supposed to, as he should be. That’s fate, and Erik has no business messing with fate. But like, there’s something in his chest, keeping him awake, forcing him to lie there on his bed (cruelly still smelling like Gabe) and think of it some more.

Erik’s probably being stupid. It was just one night, Gabe probably thought of it like ‘one last hurrah’ before being locked down to one person only, like. You know. Fuck, Erik actually doesn’t know. Do guys actually do that before their wedding? Because it’s still cheating, in Erik’s opinion, Erik’d definitely _not _do it if he were the one getting married. He’d also pretty much like his bride-to-be (or, let’s face it, groom-to-be) to not do it as well.

Great, now he’s suddenly hit with a wave of sadness because marriage? Probably not going to happen. And, even if he is going to, one day, it still wouldn’t be with Gabe because, you know, he’d be married already, which, as ridiculous as it is, still leaves a pang in Erik’s heart.

His mind continues running around wildly for the next hour, Erik’s body getting restless, until he can’t take it anymore and has to get up and _do something_.

It’s when he’s pouring shampoo onto his palm that he remembers the looks Gabe’d given him literally the whole time they were in that club, when they were in Erik’s hotel room, when they were kissing, when they were fucking. Erik’s maybe a litle bit biased, but like, he thinks he’s pretty good at differentiating a look you give someone you’re just gonna forget the next morning and the one you give someone kinda… important-ish? And like. It wasn’t as if they spent the whole night just fucking, they talked too, mostly about meaningless stuff, sure, but it has to count as something, right?

Erik wonders if he’s reaching for something that was never there. Is he? Does he care if he is?

By the time he gets out of the bathroom, he’s made up his mind, kind of. It’s this: Gabe grabbed the entirety of Erik’s attention when he showed up in Red Ruby, made Erik laugh with his cringey lines, got Erik feeling like he sees god when their bodies are one—it was one night, sure, but Erik hasn’t been that happy in literally forever, and generally, when you think you’ve found the one, you go after them (no?), so yes, that’s exactly what Erik’s going to do.

Erik can _almost _hear Taylor Swift’s singing, _Don’t say yes, run away now_, and like, given the chance, Erik’d love to say that to Gabe, too.

…

Erik doesn’t have that much clue where the wedding is, but he remembers Gabe asking vaguely if Erik’s hotel is close to the Kuta beach, so Erik will try that one first. Thank fucking god that his hotel is, indeed, close to the beach.

“Fifteen minutes walk, tops,” says the tour guide. “Joining the tour again, sir?”

“Uh,” Erik says, suddenly awkward. “Not today, no.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” She says, smiling. “Good luck today, sir.”

Erik nods. Yeah, he definitely needs that. He asks her for directions, even though he can easily Google Maps it.

She explains to him twice, making sure he’s got it even though it’s not that hard, and immediately adds when Erik’s about to book it from there. “But I heard there’s some shooting over there today,” she probably catches on Erik’s confused face. Then, “I mean, like, a movie. Someone’s shooting a movie in Kuta beach today. Big stars. You probably won’t be allowed to enter some parts of the beach.”

“Um,” Erik says. “But I’m still allowed to get on the beach, right?”

She nods. “Yeah, you should be.”

Erik runs from there. He’s pretty sure he’s not that late, it’s only 6:49 am and weddings can’t start that early, right? Like, there’s preparation and stuff—you know, brides getting their make-up done and whatever, but then he’s reminded that Gabe’s wedding could be a beach wedding and it’s hot as fuck in Bali, Indonesia so it’s also a very possible scenario that they’d want to start early.

If there’s a filmmaking going on, Erik doesn’t see it. There aren’t that many people yet, still too early probably, but it’s hard to miss a whole setting for a wedding, flowers and makeshift altar and guest seating and all. Erik feels his heart drop when he sees a few people already seated there, though he doesn’t see any white gown yet. It’s good, definitely. You can’t start a wedding without the bride present. Unless there isn’t a bride at all.

Fuck.

Is gay marriage even legal in Indonesia? Erik’s pretty sure not. Or he’d hear about it already from Amelia in Accounting, who’s weirdly passionate about this kinda thing, and gay marriage legality in an Asia country is a big deal to her. So, yeah, back to searching for a white wedding gown.

Erik steps closer to the venue, trying to not look like his purpose there is to convince the groom to cancel the wedding. He has a decent poker face, thank god, so he manages to get into the crowd (which is still a great feat, considering he’s wearing shorts and flip-flops). It doesn’t take him that long to find Gabe—opposing magnets attract each other, remember?—though Gabe doesn’t seem to see him.

Gabe’s in a tux—of course he is. Like, logically he should be. Erik should’ve thought of that already. But still, the sight of him still make Erik’s breath catches, lost somewhere in his throat. He spends a few moments trying to get his balance back, failing a few times at first because he keeps glancing at Gabe, until he tells himself sternly that it’s now or never, that he’s going to hate himself so fucking much if he fails to say _something _to Gabe because he’s too busy drooling over him in a tux.

He approaches.

The dude Gabe was talking to mercifully leaves him alone near the long table, easily accessible. God, Erik hopes Gabe won’t hate him for doing this. Not that Erik will do _something_, he’s just here to talk some sense into Gabe—or not _sense_, whatever, because the logical thing to do here is of course to get married to his girl, not run away with Erik after a night full of passion (ha, that sounds fucking weird).

“Um, Gabe?” Erik calls, a few steps away from him.

Gabe looks up from his phone, and if Erik thought he was unsteady before—surprise, surprise—he’s much unsteady...er now, with his eyes locked into Gabe’s.

“Erik?” Gabe says, gapes a little. “What’re you doing here?”

In retrospect, Erik should’ve thought about what he’s going to say before he goes to crash a wedding. You know, to sound convincing, like he knows what the fuck he’s talking about.

As it is, Erik’s completely unprepared and of course the first thing he blurts out is, “Gabe, don’t you feel our connection?” like some stupid-ass hopeless romantic.

Gabe’s confused face is a very justified response to that.

“No, like…” Erik starts, stops, takes a deep breath, and then promptly launches into a shitty explanation of why Gabe should reconsider marrying someone else (that contains flailing hands, frustrated _argh _when Erik couldn’t find the words he’s looking for, and he’s pretty sure the word ‘like’ is uttered close to a hundred times).

Gabe is silent when Erik’s done—still breathless from his very wordy ‘you shouldn’t get married today because clearly we have something going on that’s special and don’t you want to find out more?’.

“Um…” Erik says, when the silence gets too much to bear. “You still with me?”

“Erik,” Gabe replies. His voice sounds very firm and sure, and Erik braces himself for the rejection that’s definitely coming after this. “We exchanged phone numbers.”

“Yeah, so? It could be a fake,”

“I called your number from my phone! You saw it,” Gabe says. He’s kind of laughing now, which, what the fuck. Rude. “If I were to get married today, do you think I’d be saving my _real_ contact onto a hookup’s phone?”

Erik frowns. “A _hookup_?” fuck, is that what he is?

Gabe waves a hand. “Like, hypothetically speaking.”

Erik still understands no shit and Gabe’s still laughing and this is getting very out of hand. He wants to say something about it, but someone’s shouting, “Landeskog, be ready in ten.”

And Erik is, fair to say, gobsmacked.

“Landeskog?” Erik repeats, trying his best to maintain a flat expression. He fails, miserably. He doesn’t try again. “Like… the actor?”

In hindsight, it is probably wise to find out the last name of the person you consider ‘the love of your life’ before you go ahead and try to ruin their so-called ‘wedding.’

“Yeah, Erik, like the actor. I’m only getting married today for a movie.” Gabe says.

Erik’s pretty sure he’s going to get yelled at by so many people in his life if they ever found out about this. The outrage mainly about, “How the FUCK did you not recognize fucking Gabriel Landeskog, Erik?” and like, that’d be fair. Erik’s seen pictures of Gabriel Landeskog—that’s become a daily occurence, probably—he _should _be able to pick the dude out in a crowd.

“I’m very dumb, apparently,” Erik says, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Gabe to pick it up.

“You’re really not,” Gabe says, and there it is, the million watts grin again. Erik’s pretty sure he goes blind for a few seconds. “But if you check your phone, you’d find that I’d sent you an invitation to dinner. What’d you say?”

“Oh, fuck, I didn’t realise—” Erik gets his phone out of his pocket and, sure, there is a few text notifications from ‘Gabe the Babe’. Erik’s face immediately contorts into a cringe when he sees that. “_Gabe the Babe? _Really?”

Gabe laughs. “Okay that was maybe bad,” he says. “You in, though?”

“Yeah,” Erik says, then he quotes Gabe’s words from last night. “Like that isn’t obvious?”

…

> _ **SINGLE NO MORE: GABRIEL LANDESKOG TIES THE KNOT ** _
> 
> These newlyweds are ready for their happily-ever-afters!
> 
> After more than 5 years together, Gabriel Landeskog and now-husband Erik Johnson got married during a beautiful ceremony in Hawaii over the weekend. Landeskog shared three stunning photos of the event on his Instagram captioned, “Erik and I just want to put it out there that we got married! For real!” See the pics for yourself here.


End file.
